


Reality Came True

by rexthranduil



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, One-Shot, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/rexthranduil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-Shot: After a night of drinking Enjolras confronts Grantaire for his behaviour; things do not end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality Came True

**Author's Note:**

> This is Grantaire and Courfeyrac’s flat: http://liverpool.olx.co.uk/2-bedroom-apartment-in-liverpool-centre-iid-98247152
> 
> I came across this poem (?) online and, well, it really spoke to me. It just screams Grantaire and his heart-ache about Enjolras. I guess I used it for my inspiration for this fic.
> 
> _You Made Me Cry,  
>  You Tore Me Apart,  
> You Left Me In Tears,  
> You Shattered My Heart _
> 
> _It Wasn't Your Fault,  
>  I Guess It Was Me,  
> For Love Can't Be Forced,  
> Perhaps We Weren't Meant To Be._
> 
> _It Still Doesn't Help,  
>  Now That I Know,  
> Because For Some Reason,  
> My Heart Wont Let Go._
> 
> _I've Tried More Than Once,  
>  To Get Over You,  
> But You Make It So Hard,  
> With Cute Things That You Do._
> 
> _I Thought Love Was Joy,  
>  But I've Got Nothing To Gain,  
> Just Sorrow, Tears,  
> And A Little More Pain._
> 
> _The Day The Pain Started,  
>  Reality Came True,  
> It Was The Day That I Realized,  
> I'll Never Be With You._

He’s tired, not drunk ~~yet~~ and he’s really wasn’t in the mood to be verbally abused by an annoyingly impossible, perfectly maddening bastard so he'd decided to give the Musain a miss tonight. Which was why Grantaire’s sat in his and Courfeyrac’s flat, refusing to join them at the café so they could enjoy his obvious victimisation – by the one person who actually hurts him when he accuses him of being useless. This stupid, unwanted, obsession of his was going to be the death of him Grantaire’s sure of it. Courf’s already texted him complaining about his non-attendance and it was only when Grantaire replied with a promise to reveal to the whole of Paris who Courf dreams about that his flatmate left him to his thoughts.

_Jesus R! Fine. But our fearless leader is on the fucking war path._

Well, mostly.

**_What else is new._ **

Grantaire replied as he glared down at his mobile held in the palm of his hand. Let the fucker be angry. Let him turn red with fury. Let his marble countenance crack and crumble. Grantaire couldn’t find it within himself to care anymore. Why _should_ he care about a man God who treated him like a diseased leper and refused to even interact with him unless he was pissed and started purposefully goading him?

_He's drinking._

So fucking what? Grantaire drank all the time, heck he’s “never seen without a bottle” according to Enjolras his Apollo. They all drank; why should _he_ care about their fearless leader ~~the living embodiment of Apollo~~ joining them in the real fucking world?

_Seriously R; he’s doing shots. Lots of them._

Enjolras should be fine; what with the way he constantly went on about how easy it was to drink, and being a God it obviously was for him. None of them worried when Grantaire did shots. They didn’t care when it was Combferre or Joly. Why was Enjolras so special? ~~He knew the answer to that but damn it he won't consider it because it hurt too much.~~

_Shit! R, we can’t find him._

**_He’s probably fucked off home mother._ **

_Fuck you. This is serious. He was really fucking drunk!_

**_Well what do you want me to do about it?_ **

_Call him. He’ll answer you._

Grantaire nearly threw his mobile through the closed window. No. He was not- _No_. He would not call that annoying, pretentious, arrogant son of a bitch even if Courf begged him! Besides, as if the _great_ Enjolras would answer Grantaire’s call when he was apparently ignoring everyone else. Just as he was about to reply someone bangs on the door to his flat. He jumped out of his skin and cursed at his reaction.

Deciding that Courfeyrac could wait a minute Grantaire rose from his sofa and went to open the door. Once he’d told whoever the fuck it is to piss off he’d reply to his friend; and call Enjolras. He reached for the chain when his phone buzzed again and his eyes flicked down automatically to read whatever Courfeyrac sent.

_Nevermind, you were right. Says he’s gone to sleep it off. Combferre’s staying with Joly tonight._

**_Fucking brilliant. Now let my get some sleep you ass._ **

_Fine. I’m staying with Jehan tonight you fucking twat._

Grantaire snorted as he looks up from his phone as someone pounded on his door hard enough to make the chain rattle. Frowning he slid his phone into his back pocket and undid the chain. _Who the fuck_ would bother him, everyone he hangs with have all fucked off home for the night and he’s got the flat he shares with Courfeyrac to himself.

Swinging the door open Grantaire opened his mouth, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but he never got the chance as he was shoved backwards with so much force that he hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Blinking profusely as he struggled to get his breath back Grantaire looked up in surprised fury at the _fucking bastard_ who shoved him on his ass only to find himself staring at-

“What the _fuck_ Enjolras!” Grantaire exploded as he dragged himself up from the floor, his voice rough and full of anger as he stared at the golden-haired revolutionist. “What the fuck are you doing here you fucking dick!”

Enjolras didn’t even bother to answer Grantaire, just stepped up to him so that they’re face-to-face, their chests barely an inch apart and Grantaire, even in his anger, recognised the dilated pupils and the blush of red on Enjolras’ cheeks to realise- _holy fuck he really is drunk._

He was about to say as much when Enjolras, moving far faster than any intoxicated man has any right to, gripped Grantaire’s head in his hands and smashed their lips together. His protests were silenced, his surprise muffled as Enjolras used too much teeth and too much force, pushing Grantaire back until he was pressed up against the support wall of the new, modern kitchen in the flat.

A thousand-and-one things went through Grantaire’s head, half of them consisting of just how bad _really fucking_ _good/bad/wrong_ this is and the other half all about how hard, how strong Enjolras feels pressed against him. A part of him, larger than usual thanks to sobriety, whispered at him to stop this, to stop Enjolras before he did something he’d regret. Somehow he managed to break the kiss, leaning his head back until his neck is bared and he can look Enjolras in the eye.

“What are you doing?” Grantaire panted, his breathing laboured as he reached out to gently rest his hands on Enjolras’ shoulders. “You’re drunk.”

“An astute observation.” Enjolras smirked as he slid a hand down from Grantaire’s face along his chest, grinning when the artist shivered from the sensation.

“I want you.” He stated bluntly, pressing his palm against Grantaire’s abdomen hard enough to make the artist suck in a sharp breath. “I want to take you apart and make you scream and I won’t take no for an answer.”

Grantaire blinked dumbly because _what the fuck_. He must be hearing things, hallucinating. Maybe he’d drank himself into a stupor and was actually unconscious on the sofa with a half-empty bottle of Guinness held in a loose grip.

“Enjolras I- I really don’t- I uh-” Grantaire stuttered, his tongue tripping over the words as he tried to organise his thoughts into some sort of coherent response. It’s a heck of a lot harder when he’s sober apparently; or maybe it’s harder because he could feel Enjolras’ erection pressed against his thigh.

“I… you’re drunk. We _can’t_ do this.” Grantaire snapped suddenly, as he realised that holy shit, Enjolras wanted him right now but he was drunk and Grantaire refused to take advantage of that fact, he was not that much of a bastard thank you very much.

“But when you’re drunk it’s perfectly fine for you to ogle me like I’m a piece of meat?” Enjolras bit out, the hand on Grantaire’s face moved to grip the artist’s hair so tightly it elicited a sharp hiss of pain from him. Enjolras smirked at the surprised look on Grantaire’s face.

“You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t know that you follow me around like a lost puppy even when I kick you away?” Enjolras continued his words sharp and cutting, making Grantaire shut up his eyes, unable to turn his face away.

“Look at me!” Enjolras barked, his fingers twisted in Grantaire’s hair and forced his head up further. Grantaire suppressed a whimper from the pain because this, this was not normal. This was not good and it hurt but he doesn’t have the strength to push Enjolras away, not when he’s trapped against the wall like this. So he opened his eyes, slowly, and looked Enjolras in the face.

“Poor little Grantaire. Doesn’t think he matters. Hasn’t got a penny to his name. Mummy and daddy cut him off because he’s a fuck up. Drinks to forget his past and waste his future. Desperately tries to fit in with everyone but knows he’s too fucked up to manage that so he drinks more and stares too much. Thinks he’s being subtle when he isn’t. Says what he wants and doesn’t think about how it’ll affect anyone else; except you do don’t you Grantaire?” Enjolras hissed, his face dangerously close to Grantaire’s own. “You know how Jehan will react when you decry his romantic ideals. You know how Courfeyrac will react when you purposefully upset Jehan. You know how Combferre will respond when you tease Eponine. You know how I will react when you denounce all that we, not you, we believe.”

Grantaire wanted to look away, he wanted to hide his face in shame, in guilt, but the grip Enjolras had on his hair stopped him. He couldn’t even close his eyes because he knew it’d further anger Enjolras. It was one thing knowing these things about himself, it was another thing entirely to hear them spat at him aloud; by the one he revered above all. It made him want to die. More than all the things he's suffered in his life, more than all the failings and fuck-ups he'd caused, more than hurting those he loved. He hated himself for his weakness, for his obsessive need to be cruel and corrosive to anything, and anyone, that was worth something.

There was silence in the flat, neither man speaking for a long, only the sound of their heavy breathing - one in drunken anger, the other in destructive shame - echoed around the apartment until a quiet, almost inaubible sound broke its way through Grantaire's guiltridden silence.

A sob.

Followed by another and another; louder and more broken than the last, they poured from him as easily liquor poured in. Whatever strength he had, whatever power he'd retained over the years was shed as his legs buckled and he fell to the floor. Uncaring of Enjolras' opinion, Grantaire sobbed and wailed in pain, grief, hurt, guilt and shame. Every sob, wrought from his tired body by these emotions, shook his frame and made it harder to breathe.

For Enjolras, having never seen anyone cry in such a manner, never once considering the influence he had on others with his words and infectious passion, stared in silent horror for he realised, somewhat belatedly, that he'd done this. Him. He had taken the armour-clad Grantaire, that presented a smile and a bottle to the world, and he'd stripped him of his armour; stolen from him his defence against the world that batted at his psyche neither ceasing nor hesitating in its efforts to destroy him.

Stumbling back, in horror and growing self-loathing, Enjolras could not find it within himself to do more than continue staring in at Grantaire as he backed up against the door to the flat.

"Oh God." He whispered. "What have I done?"

And with those words he fled, the last words Grantaire heard from his Greecian God, as Enjolras escaped from the flat leaving his victim to his own devices.


End file.
